"Because it is written that we shall do so, written that we shall strive and make choices though, like the pebbles, we merely rattle down the preordained way."

"Bah!" growled Ferret, then she turned to Arin. "What say you to this mad man, Dara?"

Arin smiled. "My view is different."

"How so?"

The Dylvana scratched a line in the rocky soil. "All lives are made up of choices. Should we choose this way, then here we shall go." Her line in the grit jagged left. "But should we choose elsewise"-she moved her stick back up the scrape and jinked it to the right-"we go this way instead. Life itself consists of branching pathways, turning left and right and running straight, or swerving at any number of angles, some paths more likely than others, though any path may be taken. And each choice we make leads to still more branches ahead.

"When we live a simple life, perhaps isolated and full of routine, then the impinging events and choices are few. But as our lives cross with those of others-family, friends, strangers, foe-their choices at times affect what we do, as our choices at times affect them. And the more people we encounter, the more our paths cross and crisscross and cross again. The more people and events, the more branches, the more confusing the tangle… so many choices and interlinked branches as to represent chaos itself.

"However, because as Burel says, most people cannot choose to step to the moon or burst into flame or lift a mountain or become a god… or a countless number of things entirely beyond their power, then this endless tangle of branches is indeed bounded by practicality-a bounded chaos, if thou wilt.

"Looking into the past, though, we see the tangle resolved into sets of choices made, chaotic no more but fixed instead-much as Burel would have it. But looking into the future is like looking into an endless snarl of choices, like looking into chaos itself all knotted and meshed and entangled, as you, Ferret, believe.

"There are, however, past and present and future events which stand out above the confusion and chaos, with virtually all paths leading from them or to them in due time, almost regardless of what choices are made."

"Like wyrds?" asked Egil.

Arin nodded. "Thou couldst think of it that way: wyrds for individuals, couples, families, clans, communities, nations, the world. These are the ways of prophecy… ways leading toward signal events."

"And this is what you deem the green stone to be, eh? A wyrd for the world?"

"Yes, Egil, I do."

Delon shook his head. "But Dara, first you tell us we have choices, and then you tell us that all paths lead to signal events. If all paths lead to such an event, then what we try to do is hopeless."

"I did not say all paths lead that way-"

"She said virtually all paths," interjected Ferret.

"Bah," snorted Alos. "Immutable destiny. Choices. Wyrds. It's all nonsense. It's the fickle gods who reach down and meddle with our so-called destinies, shoving us this way and that, visiting calamity upon us when we least expect it."

"No, Alos," protested Delon. "Although the gods may meddle, I think our destinies are written in the stars." He looked around for agreement, but found none. "Even so, there are choices to make, for it is said that the stars impel but do not compel, though one should heed their urgings."

Burel turned to the Ryodoan. "I would hear what you think, Aiko."

She looked up from the glowing coals, her eyes dark and unreadable. "Whatever comes, we must endure." Aiko fell silent and said no more.

Ferret said, "Well I think Dara Arin is right: all before us is chaos and we have free choices to do that which is within our power."

"The chaos is but an illusion," said Burel. "In truth the paths we take are already set before us, and nought we do will alter our steps along the way."

"Ha!" barked Ferret. "Not mine, Burel. I will not march lockstep on a path not of my choosing." She leaped up and with consummate ease twirled in pirouette then executed a backflip.

Delon clapped his hands together in pleasure and shouted, "Bravo, luv!"

Breathless and laughing, Ferret sat down again. "There, Burel, was that foreordained?"

Burel merely nodded.

Ferret snorted.

"Perhaps, Ferai," said Burel, "you are along to make us believe that we indeed have free will."

"And perhaps, Burel, you are along to make us believe we do not."

"Here, let me show you. See, the arm moves in an arc, and a curved blade matching that arc will sustain contact throughout a long slashing cut, whereas to do so with a straight blade requires you to alter the stroke as you cut, and here the edge may either lodge or lose contact altogether."

"But, Aiko, such a curve in a blade would hamper a clean thrust."

"Yes, Burel, it would. The straight blade is best for thrusting, piercing; the curved for slashing, cutting."

"My sword will cleave anything."

"Indeed it will, though to do so it carries great weight, and given a chance a quick foe can defeat it."

Burel touched his neck. "I remember."

In the light of the rising sun Aiko drew one of her swords. "My blades have a delicate curve, not too much to hamper thrusts, but enough to aid a slashing cut." Aiko momentarily paused, as if considering, then she handed the weapon to Burel. He received it as if it were a fragile treasure.

"Aiko!" called Arin.

The Ryodoan turned. "Yes, Dara."

"Let me examine thy wound."

Aiko sighed and, casting a glance at her sword in Burel's hand, she reluctantly trudged toward the Dylvana, the Ryodoan unfastening her leather jacket.

After moments: "Hmm. I do believe we can remove thy stitches ere we set out today."

"What of kinmichi?”

Arin nodded. "Thou canst begin again… slowly at first."

"Hai!"

As the camels headed westerly, Ferret reined back to ride alongside Arin. Both of their faces were now covered with silken scarves, for they now rode across a land where hidebound fools held sway. "Dara, I would speak to you in private."

Arin glanced at Egil. He shrugged and tapped his camel with his riding stick, calling out, "Hut, hut," and moved ahead to join Burel and Alos, while Delon to the fore rode alone in the lead.

As Egil looked back, masked Aiko rode up to join Arin and Ferret, and she was not turned away. "Hmm," said the Fjordlander, "what is it they share?"

Burel looked about. "The women of Ilsitt were always talking together-especially when their blood came upon them… or not-and often when I came near they would stop."

Egil sighed. "Women's secrets, I suppose."

"Heh," barked Alos. "Females. A bunch of cackling hens, if you ask me."

"Have you been around many females, Alos?" asked Burel.

The old man looked at the big man, Alos's white eye glaring. "Me? Of course not. I've other interests."

Now Burel looked at Egil. The Fjordlander shrugged and replied, "Some. Though I think when it comes to these matters, Delon has the most experience of us all."

"Let's go see," rumbled Burel. "I have a question to ask."

Together, Burel and Egil urged their camels ahead, but Alos did not ride forward with them.

"How will I know I am in love, Dara?"

The Dylvana looked at Ferret and smiled. "Thou shall know, for every idle thought thou hast will be filled with pleasant visions of him. Thou wilt admire his strengths, see his goodness, but not be blind to his failings. And thou wilt desire intimacy-"

"Intimacy?"

"Not merely lust, Ferai, but a sharing of feelings, of heart and mind and soul as well as a physical sharing."

Aiko let out a long sighing breath. "What you name physical sharing, Dara, seems like surrender to me."